You Can't Run from Who You Are
by Alexis4
Summary: Eliot has never been able to run from who he is. When he rescues Vicky, it leads Eliot and the team into danger. As the team fights to keep their new client safe and solve a double homicide, Eliot quickly finds that Vicky is more than what she seems and is more a danger to his heart than he ever could have imagined. Eliot/OC. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

I'd like to thank Stone Jackal for agreeing to beta this story for me and for the helpful feedback. Authors always strive on feedback but I particularly would like to know what my audience is thinking on this story so please take the time to review. OCs are always hard to manage so your feedback is extremely appreciated. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1.

"Thank God that's done," Eliot growled into the com. "You owe us for this one, Nate."

"I already said I was sorry," Nate sighed.

Eliot had just made the payoff drop to their somewhat paranoid and skuzzy client in the back of a dirty alley in one of the less pretty parts of town. He was ready to meet Nate on the street and get out of there.

"I'm on my way back," Eliot said, "I'm glad to get this one done. Our client was a little creepy this time."

"Just a bit," Nate had to agree from where he was parked in his shiny, black car waiting for his hitter.

"He kept trying to sniff Parker," Eliot rolled his eyes, "The guy was lucky she didn't stab him with something."

"Don't think I wasn't tempted," Parker's annoyed voice over the com made Eliot smile.

Their current client's . . . eccentricities were why Eliot and Nate were delivering the payoff to the client alone and at someplace other than the bar. The others simply refused to go anywhere near the creepy bastard ever again.

"Where _did_ you find that one, Nate," Sophie chimed in.

"Okay, okay," Nate sighed, "I'll try not to pick up any more nutcase clients okay?"

"At least let me check their mental health records first," Hardison said, fingers clicking over his keyboard. "Dude just wasn't right."

The hitter smiled. "Well, at least we're done with him. Nate and I should be back at the office soon."

Eliot was halfway to the end of the alley when he heard it. A soft, feminine cry followed by malicious male voices. His sharp ears tracked the noise to the building on his left and he quickly spotted the broken window that had allowed the noise to reach him.

"Hold on, Nate," Eliot said quietly, "We may have a problem."

"What problem?" Nate demanded.

"Eliot?" Sophie sounded concerned.

"Just hang on a sec," Eliot said, easing up to the dirty brown brick of the building and carefully peeking through the jagged edges of the broken window.

Two men in suits that Sophie would have admired stood over a petite girl who was tied to a dilapidated wooden chair. The side of her face that the hitter could see was streaked with blood as was her lip and nose. Her high boned cheek was clearly bruised; the vivid discoloration visible even through the blood. The gray athletic shorts she wore were dirty, and dotted liberally with her blood as was her gray tank top. Her red hair hung to her waist in limp, sweat greased tangles.

Most people would have sat with their feet flat on the ground and it was the way she was sitting that drew Eliot's attention to them. Her feet were bare and she sat with her legs shifted sideways so that the bottoms of her feet as were sideways instead of touching the cement floor. Eliot suppressed a growl at the angry, blistered burns that covered the bottoms of her feet.

"Where is it?" The taller of the two men demanded, staring casually down at his hands which were speckled with the woman's blood. His hair was dark and slicked back. The thug had applied enough gel to grease his hair to a shine.

"I don't know!" The woman said insistently, the effort it took her to hold her head up obvious.

"Your father trusted you. More than anyone else." Thug number one snorted, "You expect me to believe that he did not tell you about his stash? The money? Blackmail material? Are you really trying to tell me you don't know?"

Thug number two shook his blonde head his blues eyes roving over his prisoner greedily. "Well, if she doesn't really know then she's not much good to us, is she?" He reached down and took her chin in his hands. The girl tried to jerk her head away but he held her in a bruising grip. "There's gotta be something you're good for. What do you think, Jackson?" He asked his partner.

Jackson sneered, "Oh, I know one thing she's good for."

The woman's eyes widened in realization, and for the first time, Eliot saw that they were a vivid forest green. She jerked her head and bit the fingers that had held her chin. "Don't touch me."

"Bitch!" The blonde she'd bitten lashed out and back-handed her, causing her head to snap painfully to the left.

"Cut her loose, Harry," Jackson said, "We'll show her what her place is now."

The blonde, Harry, pulled pocket knife out of the pockets of his brown suit pants and circled her chair. He cut the zip cord that had held his prisoner to the chair. She tried to lurch away but her injuries made her slow and Harry was able to bury one hand in her long, tangled hair and jerk her back, causing her to cry out and grab at his hand.

Eliot had seen enough. "Nate, get the car started. We may need to get out of here quick."

"Eliot, what the hell is going on?" Nate demanded.

"Just shut up and trust me," Eliot snapped, "They've got a girl in there. She's pretty beat up and we can't leave her."

Nate sighed but shut up and started the car. He trusted Eliot implicitly and that was enough to make him wait for the moment.

"Eliot?" Sophie was definitely worried now, "What are you doing? Be careful."

"I'm always careful," Eliot told her, "Now quiet."

Parker and Hardison started to natter in his ear but Eliot blocked them out. He needed to find a fast way in.

The hitter spotted the door and strode toward it; the sounds of fists and feet meeting flesh and the renewed pained cries of the girl moving him faster. With one furious kick, he knocked down the old wooden door in a shower of wooden shards and dust.

The two men had the girl down on the floor and Harry was holding her hands over her head while Jackson was reaching for the button on his pants. She had new bruises and was bleeding again from her lip obviously having fought hard in the short seconds it'd taken Eliot to get inside.

Jackson bore bloody scratches down his left check and Harry would soon have a shiner. _She's a fighter._

Red tinged Eliot's vision and his blood pounded in his veins in a way Eliot knew was dangerous; not just to the men who were causing his anger but also to himself. The key was to control it and not let it control him.

"That's no way to treat a lady," He growled, "Get off of her."

The two men turned to face Eliot, though Harry did not release his bruising grip on the girl's wrists.

"This is none of your business," Jackson snarled, "Walk away before it gets you killed."

"I'm not going to tell you again," Eliot said as he moved closer, "Get away from her."

The girl, who had been watching with wild eyes, saw that the thugs focus was no longer on her. Her foot lashed out and she hissed as her abused foot connected with Jackson's minimal family jewels.

Jackson howled and cupped himself as the girl used Harry's distraction to snap her long leg back up and kick Harry in the head. It was enough that he released her wrists and she rolled away. Her eyes shifted to her left and she started to scramble away.

Eliot didn't need further invitation. He stepped up and plowed his fist into Jackson's face hearing the satisfying squelching crunch of Jackson's nose breaking and another pained howl.

Harry launched himself at the hitter, but the two thugs were merely that -thugs. They hit hard but didn't have the finesse it took to take on someone like Eliot. Jackson went down first as Eliot kicked him in the head and forty-five seconds later Harry was on the floor having succumbed to a chokehold.

Knowing that they didn't have long, the hitter's eyes scanned the room for the girl and found her by a small table. She was on her knees her hands gripping the table. As Eliot watched she gritted her teeth and pulled herself up. Her face paled as her weight settled on her feet but she stayed standing. _Stubborn, _he decided, _ Good girl_.

"I'm not going to hurt you, darling'," he said, recognizing the look of a cornered animal in her eyes.

"Who are you?" She rasped, eyeing Eliot warily. "What do you want?"

"My name's Eliot," The hitter held his hands before him non-threateningly, "I was passing by and heard you cry out."

"So you're just a good Samaritan?" She asked skeptically.

The hitter felt a slow smile quirk up one corner of his mouth. "We'd be the cavalry ma'am," Eliot said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

The girl answered with an uncertain smirk of her own. "My hero huh?"

The smile faded as Eliot watched all the color drain from her face. She swayed and gripped the table. He took a step towards her. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No!" The redhead shook her head vehemently. "No. I can't go to a hospital. It's not safe."

"Okay, okay," Eliot sighed. He needed to find out more about this girl, but right now it was easy to see that medical treatment was what she needed most. "No hospitals. But you need help. Trust me and I'll help you."

Green eyes met blue and Eliot met her stare unwaveringly. Eliot felt like they were locked in place and Eliot had the uncomfortable knowledge that she was trying to see inside him. He understood. She was alone, afraid, and hurt and knew she needed help. He didn't know what she was looking for, but forced himself to stand still and let her look until she found it.

Finally, she nodded. "Okay."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Eliot asked.

"Victoria," She said, brushing her hair back from her face, "Since you've decided to be my personal white knight, I guess you can call me Vicky." The ghost of an impish grin quirked her lips upward.

"Well, Vicky, let's get you out of here, huh?" Eliot approached slowly, careful not to test her trust in him too soon. She was a skittish as a young colt.

"Sounds good," Vicky admitted. Gritting her teeth, she put her full weight back on her feet and took a step forward, unable to keep the pained hiss from slipping past her bloody lips.

"Hey, easy," Eliot was suddenly at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist as spots danced behind her closed eyelids. "I think those feet of yours have had enough." Eliot bent, and placing his free arm behind her knees, lifted Vicky into his arms.

Vicky gasped as she was lifted off of her feet and her arms went instinctively around his neck.

Eliot felt how tense she was in his arms and knew how much pain it was causing her. "I swear, darlin', I'm not going to hurt you. You need to relax. You're doin' yourself more harm than good."

Vicky looked up at him and nodded.

"That's it," Eliot praised as he felt her muscles relax. He slowly became aware of Nate's worried voice yapping in his ear.

"It's fine, Nate," He informed his boss, "I've got her and we're coming out."

"I'm going to kill you, Eliot," Nate growled.

"Sorry," Eliot grinned slightly.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Vicky asked from her place in his arms.

"What?" Then Eliot realized, "No, I'm wearing an earpiece. Here, let me show you." He gently sat her on the table and pulled the small device from his ear. "See?" He held it to her ear, "Say hi, Nate."

"Hi," Nate sighed, "No offence but whoever you are, can you tell Eliot to get the hell out here?"

She almost smiled. "I think your friend is getting impatient."

"Yeah, you'll have that," Eliot put the earpiece back in his ear. "I'm coming, Nate."

"About time, Eliot. I'll meet you at the entrance of the alley."

"Okay, darlin', let's go." Eliot shifted Vicky into his arms and this time she went willingly.

"Sophie, Hardison, Parker," Eliot said into the coms, "I'm gonna need three of you to start getting the medical supplies together. These guys weren't very good hosts."

"We'll have everything ready, Eliot," Sophie promised.

"Now the dude's just bringing random damsels in distress home," Hardison muttered.

"Shut up, Hardison," Eliot sighed.

As they walked across the room, Jackson stirred and Eliot paused to give him another kick sending him back to dreamland.

Vicky hissed as Eliot carried her outside into the sunlight. He felt her burry her head into his shoulder and her nails dig into his jacket.

"I know," Eliot said sympathetically, "The car's got tinted windows. Just hang in there."

Nate's car pulled into view and upon reaching it, Eliot opened the back door and set Vicky down on the leather seat before climbing in next to her.

The mastermind's eyes widened as he took in the appearance of Eliot's new friend. "What the hell? Is she okay?"

"Not sure yet," Eliot replied. "Get us home while I take a look."

"Got it," Nate put the car into drive and pulled out carefully, trying not to jar the girl sprawled in the back seat.

Eliot turned to Vicky and saw that her eyes were falling shut. "Nuh uh." Eliot patted her cheek gently. "I need you to stay with me, Vicky."

"Tired," She whispered, yet forcing her eyes to open. 

"I know. But we need to make sure you're okay and take care of your injuries first.' Eliot leaned forward and brushed her hair back to search for the head wound that had bled so freely. It was a nasty little gash in her hairline that would need stitches. Even his gentle prodding caused it to ooze slightly.

His hand moved slowly around her head pausing at the small mountain that had formed at the back of her skull. "Damn, that's one hell of a goose egg." Eliot murmured.

"Eliot," She choked.

Understanding immediately, Eliot barked to Nate, "Pull over," And reached across Vicky to open the door on her side of the car as it was the side away from traffic. As soon as the car stopped, Vicky crawled across the seat and, leaning just outside the car, started to heave.

Eliot pulled her hair out of her face with one hand and supported her with the other. When she was done heaving, she went limp with exhaustion, her muscles trembling.

"There wasn't much in your stomach," Eliot observed, "When's the last time you ate or drank?"

"Had some water this morning," Vicky rasped.

Eliot gently pulled her back into the car and settled her against him before leaning over to close the door. "Okay, Nate," Eliot said softly, "Let's go."

Nate resumed driving, while exchanging concern glances with the hitter. "Vicky," he asked, "Do you know what the men who hurt you wanted?"

The injured girl became agitated, shaking her head. "No - they kept asking but - I didn't know."

"Ssshhh," Eliot soothed, "It's okay. We'll worry about that later. Just breathe"

Wrapping her arms around her sides, Vicky let out a quiet moan as the car came to a stop.

"We're here," Eliot said, "We'll get you upstairs and then get you fixed up, okay?"

"'kay," Vicky nodded and allowed Eliot to gently tug her towards the door and then lift her into his arms again.

They took her through the back entrance. Nate ran ahead to open the door for Eliot. The others looked up when they entered their office their eyes widening in shock when they say the bloody girl cradled in Eliot's strong arms.

"Dear God. What happened?" Sophie demanded, rising to her feet and rushing over.

"Explanations can wait, Sophie," Nate said, "Did you get the medical supplies?"

"Of course," Sophie gestured at the stairs. "Parker and Hardison just took everything upstairs.

"Sophie," Eliot called, "Do me a favor. Go to the desk in my office and look in the bottom drawer on the left and bring me the black box that's there."

"Got it," Sophie nodded, heels clicking sharply on the floor as she hurried into Eliot's office.

"Put her in my room," Nate said, "She'll be more comfortable. Can you get her up the stairs? They're pretty narrow."

Eliot gave Nate a look and headed toward the spiral stairs.

Vicky, who had been dazed and quiet seemed to rouse a bit and looked at the metal staircase. "I - I can walk up it. It's not worth hurting yourself."

"It's fine," Eliot soothed. "I can get us both up it with no problem." He shot Nate another look.

Nate held his hands up in surrender, and followed behind Eliot, who did indeed get both himself and Vicky safely up the narrow stair case. The hitter laid the girl on the bed as Parker and Hardison finished laying out what Eliot would need.

Carefully, Eliot sat on the edge of the bed, and took one of Vicky's hands in his, rubbing it to warm it. He was aware of the anxiety in her expression and didn't want to frighten her while he examined her injuries. "I need to take a better look at ya, darlin'," Eliot said, "Can you try to relax for me?"

Cloudy green eyes flicked toward Hardison, Parker and Nate and then toward the door as Sophie entered carrying the black box Eliot had wanted. Vicky's eyes drifted back to Sophie and Parker.

Sophie smiled reassuringly, "You're safe here and you're in good hands with Eliot."

"Eliot's really good at taking care of people," Parker added.

Taking a slow breath, Vicky nodded. "Okay, I'm ready."

Motioning for Nate and Hardison to step outside, and for Sophie and Parker to stay, Eliot's hands moved to the bottom of Vicky's dirty gray tank top. He watched as the realization that Sophie and Parker were staying further reassured the injured girl.

"I need to take a look at your ribs, okay?" Eliot waited until she nodded before moving the shirt up to just below her breasts.

What he saw infuriated him. Her slender torso was mottled with bruises of varying age and size. Some yellow, some a throbbing red, and others a vivid purple. _No one should ever do this to a woman. _Eliot forced the anger back and focused on his examination. "Tell me if any of this hurts."

He pushed and prodded, carefully watching her face to judge the depth of her pain, and also concentrating to what was happening under his fingers so that he didn't miss the shift of any broken ribs.

"I don't think any are broken," Eliot decided, "One might be cracked but it's hard to tell. More than likely they're just bruised.

"Now what?" Vicky asked, sweat beaded on her forehead.

"We're gonna have to wrap them. It will help a little with the pain too. Let's sit you up."

Vicky's gasped and gripped Eliot's arm as he eased her upright. 

"Sophie, I'm going to need your help. Can you hold her shirt up for me?" Eliot dug through the medical kit and removed the bandages he would need.

When Eliot was done, Vicky sighed and opened her eyes. "That does help a bit."

"Let's look at those feet next," Eliot said, easing her back down to the pillows and moving down to the bottom of the bed. "Parker, I'm gonna need a bowl of water."

For the first time, Sophie and Parker saw the angry burns.

Sophie gasped, "Dear God."

Parker's eyes widened and she turned quickly towards the door. "I'll be right back."

While Parker was gone, Eliot allowed Vicky to rest a moment. Sophie disappeared into Nate's bathroom and returned with a wet wash cloth, as well as several dry ones and two large towels. She set the dry wash cloths and the towels next to Eliot and walked to the head of the bed to use the wet one to gently wipe some of the sweat and blood from the girl's face and neck.

"Thank you," Vicky murmured.

"You just rest and let us take care of you," Sophie smoothed some of Vicky's hair back from her face.

Parker returned with a large plastic bowl filled with water. She handed it to Eliot.

Eliot sat at the foot of the bed and laid one of the towels across his lap before lifting Vicky's feet to rest on top of the towel. "What did they do this with, darlin'?" Eliot asked, noting the odd shape of the blistered burns.

"Curling iron," Vicky murmured tiredly.

The hitter found himself wishing he could go back to the warehouse and hit those two asses a few more times. _Not now._

"Vicky," He waited until her eyes met his, "I'm going be as gentle as possible darlin' but this is going to hurt. You ready?"

"Go ahead," Vicky nodded.

Carefully, Eliot bathed the dirt from her feet, each gentle stroke of the wash cloth like sandpaper against the burns.

Eliot could feel her trembling and was painfully aware of the tears that leaked from her eyes. "Almost done, sweetheart. You're doing good," Eliot praised softly as he finished cleaning the first foot and moved on to the second.

Surprising all of them, Parker moved up to the bed and took the girl's hand. "Just squeeze," The thief said, "Don't worry about hurting me."

By the time Eliot was done, Vicky was a limp, trembling mass on the bed and Parker was subtly shaking her hand at her side. Eliot gently smoothed some burn cream onto Vicky's feet and then carefully wrapped them with gauze and bandages.

"Just one more thing, sweetheart, and then you can rest," Eliot murmured, moving back up the bed. He grabbed the black box Sophie had brought up and removed a syringe filled with anesthetic.

Eliot bathed the blood away, inspecting the cut to make sure no dirt remained in the wound. He injected the liquid into the area in her scalp that he would need to stitch. With practiced fingers, he quickly placed four stitches closing the small but deep cut. "Okay, that's it for now. I'm gonna give you some pain killers and then you can sleep for a bit."

Sophie handed Eliot a bottle of water and he removed two pills, from one of the bottles he removed from his interestingly stocked black box. "These are Percocet. They won't upset your stomach like Vicodin tends to. Take these."

Eliot supported her with one arm and gave her the pills then held the water bottle to her lips. Vicky swallowed without hesitation and sighed as the hitter lowered her back to the bed.

Reaching into the kit, he pulled two instant ice packs out. He cracked the capsule inside to activate them and shook them several times before laying them against Vicky's ribs.

"Sleep now," Eliot ordered gently, pulling the covers up around her, "I'll be waking you up everyone once in a while to make sure you're okay."

"Do you have anyone we should call for you," Sophie asked. "Any family?"

Vicky bit her lip and another tear fell from her left eye. "No. I don't have anyone. They killed them." She missed the shocked look on the faces of Eliot, Parker, and Sophie as she gratefully gave in to the oblivion that had been whispering her name.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to all those who took the time to review and to my beta Stone Jackal for the help with this chapter.

Chapter 2

Nate was waiting outside the door when Sophie and Parker emerged while Eliot remained in the room to finish cleaning up.

"How's she doing?" Nate asked the grifter.

"Poor girl's a mess," Sophie said quietly, glancing back over her shoulder. "Her feet . . . They burned her feet, Nate. With a _curling iron_."

"Did she say who she was?" Nate frowned.

"No," Sophie said, "Nate . . . I asked her if there was anyone we could call. She-she said she didn't have anyone because _they killed them._"

Nate took out his phone and crossed the room to stand next to the bed. Lifting the phone, Nate took a picture of the sleeping girl's face.

Eliot looked over at Nate, having just sat the various medical supplies on the dresser as he would need them again later. "What are you doing?" He asked quietly, "She needs to rest not have her picture taken."

"Eliot," Nate said, "She obviously has some very bad people after her. She is under our roof and we don't know who she is or just who may be looking for her or why they are looking for her. I'm going to have Hardison try to identify her while she is resting. Unless she told you?"

"No, only that her name is Victoria," Eliot shook his head, "The men that were holding her were asking where her father's stash of money was but she told them that she didn't know." Eliot growled, "I couldn't just leave her there, Nate."

Nate laid a hand on Eliot's shoulder. "Of course not, Eliot. That's not what I'm saying. We'll do our best to help her but it may be awhile before she's able to answer our questions and we don't know what we're dealing with. I'm going to have Hardison do some digging. You just work on getting her on her feet."

Nodding, Eliot crossed back to the bed and, pulling a chair to the side of the bed the girl was resting on, settled down to wait.

Even in sleep, Vicky couldn't quite ignore the pain seeping through her body. Whatever Eliot had given her had taken the edge off, allowed her to sleep, but she could still feel it clawing through her veins.

She became aware of a hand on her shoulder and a soft voice calling her name. Reluctantly, she forced her eyes open and was momentarily frightened when she didn't recognize her surroundings.

"Hey there, darlin'."

She relaxed as the soft voice washed over her and Eliot's face came into her line of sight. "Hey."

Eliot had pulled the curtains shut but she could see through the small space between the panels that it had to be near sunset.

"How are you feeling?" Eliot asked, leaning over her to examine her pupils. He frowned. "Your pupils are still a little sluggish."

"Like shit." Vicky swallowed with difficulty. Her throat was so dry.

Eliot carefully lifted her and held a glass of water to her lips. "Slowly. If you drink it too fast, you'll end up sick."

Fog clearing from her mind, Vicky became aware of her body's frantic nagging. "Um, Eliot . . ." She paused awkwardly, "I need to use the bathroom."

"If I carry you to the bathroom will you be okay on your own?" Eliot asked, "And don't lie. You do _not_ want to fall right now."

Vicky took him seriously and spent several moments evaluating how she felt. "I think so."

"Okay then, up you go," Eliot lifted Vicky and carried her inside the bathroom and set her on her feet directly in front of the toilet. He held on until she was steady.

"I'm good," Vicky said, taking a deep breath. Her feet hurt but the layers of gauze and bandages helped cushion them and made it bearable.

"I'll be right outside the door," Eliot said, "If you start to feel sick or dizzy call me."

Vicky waited until Eliot shut the door and then went about relieving herself. She was washing her hands when her knees began to tremble and the world started to sway around her. Nausea rose up and she found herself panicking a little.

"Eliot!" She cried, staggering back toward the toilet and falling to her knees, just in time to avoid retching on the floor.

She heaved up the water she had drunk but couldn't seem to stop. Her ribs ached from her abrupt fall to her knees and her head was throbbing in time with the pounding of her heart.

Then Eliot was there, supporting her shoulders and he was speaking directly into her ear.

"Breathe, Vicky," Eliot ordered, "Deep, slow breaths. You're all right. Just breathe."

Vicky concentrated on the sound of his voice and felt her heartbeat slow, and then her breathing.

"That's it," Eliot soothed.

"Why?" Vicky whispered, still gripping the sides of the toilet, "Why are you helping me? You don't even know who I am."

"It's what we do," Eliot said, "We help people." He smirked at the disbelieving look she sent him. "This is a little out of the ordinary but you'd be surprised."

"I bet," Vicky sighed as the last of the nausea faded. She gave a tiny, slightly masochistic smile. "I haven't been this sick since college."

Eliot returned her smile. "Hold on to that sense of humor of yours," He said, "And you'll be just fine."

Eliot and Vicky looked up at the sounds of footsteps padding across the carpet of Nate's room to find Sophie at the bathroom door, holding a department store shopping bag.

"Is she all right?" Sophie asked, worriedly.

"Just dandy," Vicky muttered, slowly releasing her grip on the toilet and sitting up painfully.

"Let's get you off the floor," Eliot gathered Vicky into his arms and stood easily. He carried her back to the bed and laid her down. "What's in the bag, Sophie?"

"I thought she may want to get out of those clothes so I went and got a few things," Sophie smiled gently at Vicky, "I had to guess on the size but I think I did alright. I thought clean clothes would help you feel better."

"Yeah, I would," Vicky gave Sophie a grateful look. _What I really want,_ she thought,_ Is a shower but I guess that's gonna have to wait a bit_

"I can help her, Eliot. Why don't you go downstairs for a bit? Nate ordered a pizza," When Eliot hesitated, Sophie gave him a gentle push, "Go on. I'll stay with her until you get back."

"Fine. I'll be back soon. When her stomach settles, give her some more water." Eliot glanced once more at Vicky before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

"Let's get you into some clean clothes," Sophie smiled at the girl, "Now tell me if anything hurts too much or if you need to rest."

Ten minutes later, Vicky was dressed in soft, baby blue athletic pants and a matching blue t-shirt. Sophie had done a good job on the size. She was once again resting under the covers as Sophie settled herself in the chair by the bed. Vicky obediently sipped at the glass of water Sophie gave her before handing it back.

Vicky could feel sleep tugging at her but she wasn't ready to go quite yet. Her eyes kept shifting towards the door. Maybe it was only because he'd been the one to save her but she felt safer with Eliot near.

"He'll be back soon," Sophie said, catching on.

"He's . . . different," Vicky said, "Most people would have just kept on walking instead of rescuing me like that."

Sophie smiled, "Eliot is not most people. Now, close your eyes. Eliot will not be happy if you're not resting when he comes back."

Vicky sighed and closed her eyes. She needed to talk to them. She needed to tell them who she was, but it could wait until morning.

Eliot, who had been dozing in the chair, slowly became aware of the increasingly restless movements of the girl in the bed. Studying Vicky's face, Eliot realized that she was having a nightmare. He moved to the edge of the bed and took one of Vicky's hands and started calling her name, softly. "Vicky, come on, wake up, sweetheart. Everything is fine. Come on back now."

Instead of opening her eyes, Vicky screamed, a terrified, pain filled cry, and her free hand lashed out catching Eliot in the cheek. Not awake, but not asleep, Vicky jumped out of the bed and backed herself into a corner, her hands in her hair as she continued to scream.

"Damn it," Eliot knew he needed to stop her before she hurt herself. Her eyes were open now, but being no stranger to nightmares and flashbacks himself, he knew her eyes didn't see anything that was actually in front of her.

Sophie, Nate, Hardison, and Parker appeared in the doorway but Eliot held up his arm. "Stay back. She's caught in a night terror."

Slowly, Eliot approached Vicky, his hands held up before him. "Vicky," he called her name firmly, "Wake up, darlin'. It's just a dream. It's not real. It's _not _real. Listen to the sound of my voice."

Vicky stopped screaming and stared about her, confused. "Eliot?"

"That's it," Eliot soothed, taking several more steps forward until he stood within arm's reach of her, "Look at me, Vicky. Whatever you're seeing it's over. You're safe. _Look_ at me."

Raising her head slowly, Vicky shuddered as their eyes met and she finally came fully awake. She choked on a sob and her knees buckled. Eliot caught her, holding her against him gently. He whispered soothingly in her ear as she trembled.

"E-Eliot," Vicky clutched at his shirt, "I- I don't," She swallowed and gasped for breath, "I can't-."

"I've got you," Eliot whispered into her hair, "Just let it out."

He felt the last of the resistance fade from her as her body sank against his and she cried. He held her as she gave herself completely over to whatever she had suffered. From the pain contained in each gasping sob, Eliot knew she'd lost a lot. That kind of pain couldn't be faked.

Eliot looked back over his shoulder at the others but their expressions told him that they were equally at a loss. All he could do was hold her and let her cry the worst of it out.

"I'm right here," He whispered, "I promise I won't let anything hurt you."

Vicky was afraid that she'd never be able to stop crying, but finally she wore herself out and the sobs slowed and then quieted. She held tightly to Eliot, her fingers fisted in his shirt. His solid strength grounded her while she floundered for some type of mental balance.

She felt him push her back just enough so that he could look into her eyes. "Okay now?" he asked gently.

Vicky nodded, though she didn't let go of his shirt. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Eliot cupped her cheek, "You hear me?"

"Yeah," Vicky nodded, unconsciously leaning into his hand. His callused hand was gentle and reassuring her against her skin.

"Let's get you back to bed, huh?" Eliot bent and lifted her into his arms. As he carried her to the bed, Vicky slowly forced her fingers to uncurl themselves from his shirt. She'd been holding on so tightly her fingers were cramped.

Eliot sat her gently on the bed, and she used the time he spent assuring himself that she hadn't further injured herself to gather her scattered thoughts.

Sophie had ushered Hardison and Parker out some time ago under the pretense of making Vicky some tea to soothe her nerves. Vicky was grateful to the older woman. She hated crying in front of others and was embarrassed that she'd lost it like that.

Vicky saw the concerned glances being exchanged by Nate and Eliot. She waited for one of them to speak, but they seemed content to wait for her. Her body still shook with the occasional shudder, and Vicky appreciated the time to gather her thoughts. She was aware of Eliot's warmth as he sat next to her.

When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse from screaming. "I - I need," She coughed and gratefully accepted the glass of water Eliot handed her. She took a few sips and then took a deep breath. She met Eliot's eyes first and then Nate's.

"I need to tell you some stuff. I need to tell you who I am so that you know what you are potentially dealing with." Vicky took another deep breath, "I need to tell you my name. My full name."

"It's a doozy for sure." Hardison's voice made all three look up.

Hardison stood just inside the room with several pieces of paper held in his hand. Sophie stood behind him, cup of tea in hand, with a stunned looking Parker.

_He knows. _Vicky realized. She smiled bitterly. "Yes, it is."

When Vicky spoke, she spoke directly to Eliot, as she owed him the truth the most. "My name is Victoria MacKenna and my father was Ian MacKenna."

"Ian MacKenna," Nate repeated, "As in Ian MacKenna the local mob boss?"

"Yes," Vicky looked down at her bandaged feet. "Except he's not the mob boss anymore. He's dead."

Vicky's last words were choked and she knew was in danger of crying again.

Hardison stepped in. "It's true Nate," Hardison handed Nate a newspaper printout. "It was in yesterday's paper. Ian MacKenna was found shot to death in his home with quite a few of his men. His daughter, Victoria, has been missing since the attack."

Nate looked at the printout and there was a picture of Vicky, several years younger, under the headline.

"Does it say anything about my brother, Conner?" Vicky asked, a timid hope in her voice. "Did they find his body?"

"They didn't find his body but found traces of his blood," Hardison told her softly.

"You need to tell us what happened," Eliot said, "Who is after you?"

Nodding, Vicky couldn't quite suppress the shiver that came with the memories. Sophie roused herself from her shock and stepped forward to hand Vicky the tea.

Vicky gave the older woman a wan smile. "Thank you," She sipped it, trying to find the words.

Sophie walked to Nate's side and took the newspaper article from him and started to read.

"I don't know who is after me," Vicky admitted softly, "I don't know who they are or who they work for."

"Start at the beginning," Nate instructed, "Just take your time."

"It was just after dinner," Vicky said, "I was upstairs in my room, working out on my treadmill. I heard yelling and then gunshots and then footsteps on the stairs." Her eyes became far away, and Eliot knew she was reliving the events as she spoke.

"At first, I didn't realize," Vicky said, "It didn't seem real. I thought someone was watching a movie downstairs and had the TV up too loud. Then my door crashed down. Four men with guns came in and dragged me down the stairs. There was blood on the stairs . . . The carpet there is white and the blood . . . It was so bright. Just puddles of it everywhere. At the bottom of the stairs . . ." Vicky shook her head, fighting the tears, "Uncle Jimmy was there. His eyes were open and there was blood . . . He looked so . . ." She shuddered.

"Your uncle?" Nate asked.

"He-he wasn't really my Uncle. He was one of my father's men. I was always a potential target and weakness for my father, so Jimmy was assigned to look after me when I was little. Except he did more than that. He bandaged my scrapes and . . .and . . . Well, he was family. I've called him Uncle Jimmy since I can remember." She looked down at her hands.

"What else did you see," Eliot asked.

"There were three more of my father's men dead in the hallway. They dragged me into the parlor and they had my father and my brother there at gunpoint." Vicky clenched her hands around the tea cup.

"There were a lot of them" She thought a moment, "Maybe ten men? I'm not completely sure. Three were holding Conner at gunpoint. They asked my father where the package was."

Vicky looked up. "He told them to go to hell. Connor told Dad just to tell them what they wanted. Dad told Connor he was an idiot and that we'd all be dead the second they had what they wanted."

"They decided they were gonna beat it out of him," Vicky shook her head, "But they didn't know my father. He fought. He managed to knock one of them out and went for the guy's gun." She closed her eyes. "One of them panicked and shot him," Vicky whispered, opening her eyes, "They just shot him." Her hands were trembling, threatening to spill the contents of the cup.

Eliot took it gently from her grasp and set it on the nightstand.

"Daddy looked at me and he told me that he was sorry," Vicky said, "And then . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence, "I don't even know what he was sorry for."

For a moment, all Vicky could see was her father standing there as the blood bloomed on his white business shirt. He'd met her eyes in those final seconds before all the life had faded.

Through the memories, she felt a warm hand wrap itself around her cold ones and squeeze. Blinking, Vicky realized that Eliot had taken her hand in sympathy. She gripped his hand back.

"Everything after that is foggy," Vicky continued softly, "I think I started screaming and then something hit me in the back of my head. I was nearly unconscious but I still heard the second shot and heard my brother cry out. Jackson and Harry took me to that warehouse but I couldn't tell them what they wanted because I don't know. According to them, my father had a hidden stash of money, blackmail material and God knows what else." She looked up, "I know my father. I'm sure it exists. But I really don't know where he kept it."

The room was silent for several awkward moments. Sophie sat on the bed on the side of Vicky opposite of Eliot and asked slowly, "With your father and brother gone who is in charge of your father's operation?"

"I don't know," She paused and paled. The girl looked up at Nate. "I am," Vicky wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm all that's left."

"I'm sorry that I've brought this kind of trouble to you. I just don't know who to trust. What happened . . . It had to be an inside job. There's no other way. If I show myself without knowing who my enemy is . . ."

"You could end up dead," Eliot growled.

"Are you sure it was an inside job?" Nate asked. He knew it probably was but wanted to hear her reasoning.

"My father's men are good," Vicky said, "He believes," she swallowed, "believed in quality over quantity. No one would have gotten close enough unless they had the help of someone who was trusted."

After several moments of silence Vicky sighed, "This isn't your problem. It's mine. As soon as I figure out where I'm going . . . I'll get out of here."

"No," Nate shook his head, "I don't think that is a good idea."

"Nate's right," Eliot said, "You still have a lot of healing to do."

Shaking her head, Vicky said, "I don't get it. Why involve yourselves? I don't want it but this is my birthright. My problem. Why volunteer to stick your noses into it?"

"You need help," Sophie said, "We help people. And we're not so, so different. It's not like we're citizens."

"Just who are you people?" Vicky asked.

Sophie grinned, "Have you ever heard of Nate Ford's crew?"

"Nate Ford?" Vicky appraised them with new eyes, "Really."

"Really," Parked grinned.

"Now that makes more sense," Vicky smiled at Eliot, "Hitter?"

"Yes ma'am," Eliot smirked.

She nodded at Hardison, "Hacker?"

"Age of the geek, baby," Hardison preened.

"Then Parker would be the thief. And Sophie is your grifter." Vicky inclined her head slightly, "You've built yourselves quite a reputation."

"You're safe with us," Eliot told her, "You just work on feeling better and when you're ready we'll work out the rest."

"Thank you," She said sincerely.

"You're welcome," Eliot stood, "Think you could eat something?"

"Yeah, I'm kinda hungry," Vicky admitted.

"I'll be back then. You just rest." Eliot left the room followed by Parker.

"Waffles!" Parker chanted, "Waffles, waffles, waffles."

Hardison trailed after, shaking his head but smiling.

Left alone with Sophie and Nate, Vicky gestured towards the papers still held in Nate's hand.

"Can I see that?" Vicky asked softly.

Silently, Nate gave it to her.

The article showed pictures of all of them. She ran her fingers over her father's. "They are burying my father tomorrow." She blinked rapidly. "I can't be there."

"It wouldn't be safe for you," Sophie patted her knee.

"Why didn't they find Connor's body?" She whispered to herself. "I heard the shot." She held a hand to her aching head, "This doesn't make any sense," She said more loudly.

Sophie, noting the pallor of Vicky's already pale skin, took the paper gently from the girl's hands.

"I know it's hard," Sophie said sympathetically, "But try to rest for a bit while Eliot makes breakfast. You still aren't well."

"Can I be alone for a bit?" Vicky said softly, gingerly curling up on the mattress.

"Of course," Nate took Sophie by the elbow and guided her towards the door. "We're not far if you need us."

Vicky was vaguely aware of the mastermind and grifter pulling the door closed behind them. She curled up on her side.She kept thinking of Connor and didn't know whether to hope he was alive or dead. She wanted him to be alive because she loved him but she couldn't bear the thought of him going through what she had. _Please dear God . . . . help him._


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Real Life is being a real pain lately. I hope it is worth the wait and I will try to get the next chapter up more quickly. As always, feedback is most welcome and thanks to those who have taken the time to review previous chapters._

Once in the hallway, Sophie turned to Nate, "Nate, do you really think leaving her alone is a good idea? She's been through a lot."

"She has," Nate agreed, "She needs some space to process it all. You would too."

Sophie nodded, "Poor girl."

Nate and Sophie joined the others downstairs. Eliot was in the kitchen, with Parker perched on the counter.

"Waffles," She grinned brightly.

"Hey Hardison," Nate walked over to the hacker, who was back at his computer, "What else did you dig up on our guest?"

"Not much," Hardison frowned, "It's really weird. She has no criminal record. Not even any suspicion of wrong doing," Hardison pointed at his screen, "You run her father or her brother and well, they are suspected of just about everything. Cops just couldn't make anything stick."

"What else," Nate leaned against the table.

"There's some news articles where she got her picture taken while volunteering at animal shelters, which it seems like she does a lot," Hardison scrolled down, "She attended a branch campus of the University of Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania. She worked at the local mall during the school year. Graduated. Looks like she was engaged once but it fell apart. That's it. She's clean."

"What about her mother," Sophie wondered, "She hasn't mentioned her mother at all."

"Probably because she passed away a year after Vicky graduated from college. Cancer," Hardison flipped the screen so that the team could see the obituary.

Parker hopped off the counter and came to take a closer look at the photo, "Wow, Vicky really looks like her mom."

"Red hair, green eyes, and lovely," Sophie observed, "If it wasn't for the age difference, they could pass for sisters."

"When Vicky is feeling more up to it we're going to need to ask some more questions," Nate said, "But she's had enough for now. Hardison, I want you to look into the brother. See if there's been any activity on his accounts or any sign that he may not be dead after all."

"You think he's alive?" Sophie asked.

"There's no body," Nate shrugged, "But that doesn't necessarily mean anything with the mob. Still, it doesn't hurt to check."

Eliot, who had been listening quietly as he concentrated on his cooking, set the finished product on the counter.

"Self-serve," Eliot said, quickly preparing plates for him and Vicky, "Help yourselves."

Placing the plates and two glasses of orange juice on the tray, Eliot headed up the stairs.

"Don't get crumbs in my bed," Nate called after him.

When Eliot entered Nate's bedroom, he found Vicky propped up against the pillows with her brow furrowed, and a deep frown upon her face.

Vicky heard him and lifted her head, forcing a halfhearted smile.

Eliot smiled back and crossed the room to place the tray across her lap. He removed his plate and glass of juice and sat them on the nightstand.

"I brought you a little bit of everything. Dig in but go slowly. Don't want to upset your stomach," He instructed, sitting in the chair next to the bed and digging into his own plate.

"You made this?" Vicky said, spearing a piece of waffle.

"Yeah, Eliot shrugged, "It's a hobby."

Vicky lifted the piece of waffle and took a bite, "Mmmmmm," She moaned appreciatively, "They are amazing. Waffles have always been a weakness of mine."

"Thanks," Eliot smiled, and then pointed his fork at her as she quickly speared another bite, "Slow." The hitter nodded with approval when she carefully chewed the next bite before swallowing.

They ate in a comfortable silence but Eliot could tell by the far off look in those green eyes that Victoria was thinking very hard. He let her have her space. Seeing her eyes begin to lower, Eliot took the tray from her lap.

"I need to change the bandages on your feet," Eliot said, "Then you can rest."

Vicky frowned and unconsciously pulled her feet closer to her body.

"It shouldn't be so bad this time," Eliot reassured, seeing her hesitation, "When I'm finished you can have another pain pill."

Eliot gathered fresh gauze and the container of burn cream. Pulling her feet into his lap, he gently removed the bandages from her feet.

He was pleased to see that the burns were no longer so red nor her feet so swollen. "They look a lot better already," Eliot said. He finished applying the burn cream and rewrapped her feet. He gave her two more pills and a glass of water, which she accepted without protest.

"Now rest," Eliot ordered quietly, helping her to slip under the blankets.

As her eyes drifted close, Eliot reached out to brush a lock of red hair from her face. She smiled sweetly as her breathing evened out and she drifted into sleep. Letting his fingers linger, Eliot traced the bruising on her cheek, noting absently that it had gone down some from the previous day.

Pulling his hand back, Eliot sank into the chair by the bed, firmly telling himself that the funny feeling in his chest was his imagination.

When Vicky next opened her eyes she was alone. She lay still, taking the time to gauge how she was feeling.

Her ribs still stung like a swarm of angry bees and her body ached, but her head was clearer now.

After a few more minutes she found that it was too quiet. Restless, she eased herself upright, forcing herself to breathe as her ribs protested.

"This is gonna suck," She muttered as she stood, putting her full weight on her bandaged feet. It hurt and she sucked in a breath.

Vicky wondered what her hosts were up to, and holding an arm across her ribs, she limped awkwardly out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

Her memory of the apartment was hazy but she found herself turning instinctively to the left and smirked when she found herself at the top of the stairs. Gripping the rails with both hands, she started down.

The team was scattered about the apartment while a movie played on the TV. It was Star Trek and she could see that the hacker was totally engrossed. Hardison lounged on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen.

It didn't take long for her eyes to focus on the person she was really looking for. Eliot sat in a chair, now dressed in a blue t-shirt and blue jeans. Parker sat on the floor next to his chair absently poking Eliot's leg.

Sophie and Nate sat together in the kitchen speaking quietly.

Vicky was half-way down the stairs before Eliot heard her and looked up.

"What the hell are you thinking?" He demanded, "Are you trying to hurt yourself?" Eliot jumped up and stalked to the stairs.

Hardison and Parker shared a look, and the hacker paused the movie in favor of the far more interesting show in front of them.

"No," she panted, "I'm not trying to hurt myself," she paused and a crooked little grin quirked her lips, "As to what I am thinking? Well, at this particular moment, I'm trying to decide if sitting down and scooting the rest of the way on my ass is an option."

Eliot just stared at her a moment and she knew that he was fighting a smile. He lost that battle with a sigh and shook his head.

Eliot held out his hands for hers, "C'mon. Just a few more steps."

Vicky took his hands, allowing him to support some of her weight as she forced herself down the last three steps. She smiled victoriously as her feet settled on the hardwood floor.

"See? I'm fine," She looked up at him to see him roll his eyes.

"Let's get you to the couch," Eliot said, wrapping a supporting arm around her waist, being careful of her ribs, "Move Hardison."

"Yeah, yeah," Hardison moved to the chair Eliot had abandoned. He smiled at the glare the hitter shot him.

Sinking gratefully onto the soft cushions, Vicky was sheepishly aware that all eyes were on her. She was also aware that Eliot was standing over her, working very hard to appear disapproving. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his and waited. _Three, two, one . . ._

"You should be resting," Eliot said, crossing his arms.

"I'm not tired," Vicky said, "And . . . It was too quiet up there."

"You should have called for one of us to help you," Eliot insisted.

"Possibly," Vicky allowed, "But I made it, didn't I?"

"Only through sheer bullheadedness," Eliot retorted.

"Not sure you're one to talk there, man," Hardison pointed out, "Just sayin'."

Eliot closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Just say something next time, okay? You would have been real sorry if you had fallen on those steps. You could have completely broken your ribs. Punctured a lung."

"Okay, okay," Vicky surrendered, "I'll be good. Promise."

Eliot stalked over to the fridge and pulled two ice packs out of the freezer. Returning to the couch, he handed them to the girl, "Put those on your ribs."

Wisely, she did as instructed without comment. Vicky shifted on the couch, trying to find a less painful position.

"Here," Eliot arranged the pillows against the arm of the chair, "Lay back. It'll take some of the pressure off those ribs."

Lifting her feet onto the couch, Vicky settled back and found that while not completely comfortable, it was a big improvement.

Eliot looked around and saw all other spots were taken. Sighing, he picked up Vicky's feet and sat down on the couch, placing her bandaged feet in his lap. It was better for her to have them elevated anyway. "Put the movie back on, Hardison."

"I was just waiting until ya'll was done," Hardison hastily hit the play button when Eliot shot him a warning look.

Vicky snuggled down into the couch. Her life was a mess and she had no idea how to fix it. Her father dead. Her brother missing. One wrong move could get her killed and the pain and grief and loss made her head spin. She knew she would have to face it soon and it scared her. Yet, in this moment, she knew she was safe. She focused her eyes on the movie, dozing off as the Vulcan homeland was torn to dust.

Sophie was fascinated by the interaction between Eliot and Vicky. Most women would have been intimidated by Eliot's gruff demeanor but Vicky didn't even seem to notice. Indeed, she hadn't blinked when Eliot had placed her bandaged feet in his lap. She was at ease with the hitter.

_Very interesting, _Sophie thought

When Vicky next opened her eyes, the TV was off. Soft clicking drew blurry eyes to the table where Hardison was working at his laptop. Parker sat next to the hacker, her eyes also fixed on the screen. Nate, Sophie, and Eliot were nowhere in sight.

At some point, someone had removed the ice packs and covered her with a blanket. Flipping the blanket back, Vicky sat up slowly, grimacing at the ache in her ribs. Feeling stiff, Vicky decided it was time to move around some more.

Placing her feet carefully on the floor, Vicky stood, a groan escaping her lips as her body told her just how very much it hated her at that particular moment.

"Hey, you okay?"

Turning her head, she realized that Hardison and Parker had noticed her movements and were watching her. Hardison was half out of her chair looking as if he wanted to help her but wasn't sure it'd be okay.

"I'm okay," Vicky waved him off, "Just sore."

Slowly maneuvering her way towards the table, Vicky gestured at the otherwise empty rooms. "Where is everyone?"

"Nate and Sophie went out to eat," Parker replied, "Eliot went to get some things from his place."

Vicky shuffled toward the hacker and thief, only now realizing how far she had to be from the last pain pill. She set her green eyes upon the chair next to Hardison and commanded her feet to move.

"You are a very determined person," Hardison commented as Vicky reached the chair and eased her extremely unhappy body into it.

"Yup," Vicky panted, giving him a tired smile, "Stubborn as they come."

Parker stood up and skipped to the fridge, returning with a bottle of water. She handed it to Vicky.

"Thanks," Vicky unscrewed the lid with shaking hands and took a sip.

The screaming in her muscles was dying down and as the pain receded a bit, Vicky noticed for the first time what Hardison had been doing at his laptop. Her father's face stared back at her, and she realized she was looking at police documents regarding her father's activities.

"Let me see," Vicky said sitting up straighter and scooting her chair closer.

"Uh, I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Hardison turned the laptop towards him, only to have the redhead pull it back. "You know, they say ignorance is bliss," Hardison held his hands up, "Just saying."

"They're my family," Vicky said, "I already know that they broke the law. I'm sure I already know most of it. I know my father and my brother. They . . . they weren't monsters. How bad could it be?"

Green eyes scanned the reports. Drugs, theft, blackmail, none of it really surprised her. The blackmail she'd known about for a long time, though not where her father kept the evidence he used to do it. Jackson and Harry had been wrong about that. Clicking to go to the next page of the file, she froze. _Dear God._

It was a news article from three years ago. A local dealer had been shot to death in his home and it was suspected that her father had ordered the hit. What chilled her heart and stopped the blood in her veins was the captioned picture of the dealer's five year old daughter.

The child was adorable. Blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a dimpled smile. In her arms, she clutched a teddy bear and waved at the camera. Jenny, as the caption identified her, had been caught in the crossfire and shot in the chest. She'd died at the scene.

Breathing in short gasps, Vicky scrolled further through the report. Her muscles locked in horror and she swallowed hard when she came across the crime scene photos.

"I think that's enough," Hardison saw the fine tremors working through her muscles. He reached for the laptop.

Vicky's hand flashed forward and gripped it tightly. "No. I-I have to know."

If Hardison or Parker said anything further, Vicky didn't hear. The only sound was the roaring in her ears.

Eliot opened the door to Nate's apartment, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Sharp blue eyes immediately noted that Vicky was no longer downstairs.

He spotted Hardison and Parker sitting at the table, "One of you damned well have better helped her back up those stairs," Eliot growled.

"Hey dude, we tried," Hardison defended, "She wouldn't let us. She's as stubborn as hell," The hacker crossed his arms, glaring pointedly at Eliot. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

"We've got other problems," Parker interrupted as Eliot's mouth opened to retort.

"What are you talking about?" Eliot dropped his duffle and moved closer.

"Take a look," Parker gestured towards the computer screen.

Turning the laptop towards him, Eliot scowled, "Damn it, Hardison! You let her look at this?"

"She didn't really ask," Hardison snapped.

"She was okay at first," Parker said, "Until she saw this," The blonde thief leaned in and opened the shooting report. Parker hit the button again and another photo of the girl popped up. This one showed the child lying on the floor, covered in blood and staring sightlessly.

"I don't think she knew," Hardison sighed, "Not about the murders at least. That's the one that really got to her."

Eliot stared at the picture of the little girl and bowed his head. _Damn._

"Vicky went upstairs about a half hour ago," Parker frowned, "Wouldn't let us touch her."

"Said she needed to think," Hardison look at the screen and shook his head, "Can't really blame her."

"Stay here," Eliot instructed, turning and sprinting up the stairs.

Nate's bedroom door was closed. Eliot frowned as he tried to turn the knob. It was locked. "Vicky?" Eliot called, "Open the door, darlin'."

Receiving no answer, the hitter rammed his shoulder into the door, sending it flying open. Eliot's frown deepened when he didn't see her, but then realized that the bathroom door was open and the light on.

Eliot crossed the room, pausing just inside the bathroom door.

Vicky was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, her arms resting on the seat, and her head pillowed on her arms. The contents of the toilet showed she'd been ill.

"Go away, Eliot," Vicky demanded without opening her eyes, "I'm quite happy where I am."

"Sorry, sweetheart. That's not happening," Eliot said softly.

Irritated green eyes slid open to glare at Eliot. He could see that they were red rimmed.

"What do you want?" Vicky sighed.

"Are you done?" Eliot gestured toward the mess in the toilet.

Gingerly, Vicky sat up and nodded, "Yeah. Think so," She ran a hand through her hair and grimaced both at disturbing the still healing bump on the back of her head and the greasiness of her hair, "Ew."

Stepping forward, Eliot flushed the toilet and extended his hand, "I'll make you a deal. Let me look at your feet and if they look okay, I'll see if Parker or Sophie has any girly shower stuff you can use."

Really wanting a shower to feel clean, Vicky nodded and took Eliot's hand, "Deal."

Eliot watched as some of the wariness fled from the redhead's eyes. He was definitely going to talk to her about what she'd seen on that computer screen, but it wouldn't do any good while she was so tightly wound. Some breathing room and a shower would relax her and make her more likely to talk to him.

Gently, he pulled her to feet, not missing the grimace as the action pulled at her ribs, "The shower should help with the soreness too."

Shrugging off Eliot's hands, Vicky walked slowly ahead of him towards the bed. Eliot let her go; staying close in case she lost her balance.

When Eliot sat next to her on the bed, Vicky carefully lifted her feet into his lap, used to the routine by now.

Eliot unwrapped her feet and carefully studied the bottoms. "You're a quick healer. You should be okay to shower. We just need to make sure both your feet and your stiches are good and dry afterwards." Moving, her feet from his lap gently, Eliot stood, "I'll unwrap your ribs and then go see what I can scrounge up for you."

Nodding, Vicky raised her arms, allowing Eliot to unwind the bandages. She grimaced as the sudden lack of support caused the aching to ratchet up a notch.

"Now stay here," Eliot ordered, pointing downward, "And I mean _right_ here."

"I won't move," Vicky assured him.

Nodding in satisfaction, Eliot studied the girl in front of him. Not quite sure what made him do it, Eliot reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, "It'll be all right," he told her. "I'll be right back."

When Eliot walked down the stairs, he was relieved to see that Nate and Sophie had returned. They were gathered around Hardison's laptop, and Eliot was sure the hacker had filled them in.

"How is she?" Sophie asked, spotting Eliot.

"She's not saying much," Eliot said, "Do you have anything she could use to take a shower?"

Sophie thought a moment and nodded. "Of course, I keep some things in my office just in case. Come with me."

Eliot followed Sophie into her office, waiting at the door while Sophie opened a closet and pulled out a small duffle bag. Sophie dug through it, pulling out Paul Mitchell shampoo, conditioner, and Bath and Body Works Cherry Blossom scented bath gel. She pulled another smaller black bag from the duffle as well.

"That should do it," Sophie decided.

"Hey, Sophie, would you mind coming upstairs?" Eliot asked, "In case she needs help?"

"No, of course not," Sophie agreed, enjoying seeing Eliot shift uncomfortably. Top ranked hitter or not, underneath Eliot was really just a country boy at heart.

Sophie followed Eliot out of her office and up the stairs.

Eliot was pleased and surprised, to find Vicky waiting just where he'd left her, "Sophie has some stuff you can use. She's agreed to give you a hand."

"Thanks, Sophie," Vicky started to stand.

"Hold on," Eliot swooped in and lifted Vicky into his arms, "I don't want you walking on those feet when they are unwrapped just yet."

He carried her into the bathroom as he had earlier and again set her on her feet, "Keep an eye on her," Eliot murmured to Sophie as he left the room shutting the door behind him.

"Calgon, take me away," Vicky muttered, carefully leaning forward to turn on the facets and regulate the water temperature.

Sophie smiled, "Let me know if you need any help."

"I think I'm okay," Vicky assured her, turning her back to grip the neckline of her tank top and pull the shirt off, and then unhooked the bra underneath.

As Vicky undressed, Sophie set the shampoo and body wash inside the shower. She opened the black bag and pulled out an unused disposable razor and shaving cream. "You just do your thing and I'll sit here and read a magazine."

Nodding, Vicky stepped into the shower stall, drawing the curtain behind her. She turned on the showerhead and sighed as the warm water poured over her. Washing was harder than she thought it would be, due to her ribs, but she picked up the washcloth and started scrubbing.

Twenty minutes later, Vicky turned off the water and sighed. She opened the curtain to find Sophie holding out a towel.

"Thanks," Vicky took the fluffy ,blue towel and wrapped it around her body as she exited the shower. The warm water had eased her sore muscles and her mind. Vicky felt more clearheaded than she had in days.

"Why don't you sit down on the toilet and I'll help you brush out your hair?" Sophie suggested gently, urging the girl towards the toilet set.

Vicky allowed Sophie to push her down to sit and then sat quietly as the older woman ran a brush through her hair, gently working out the tangles, while being careful of the bump on the back of Vicky's head and the gash in her hairline. When Sophie was done brushing, she quickly braided the long, cinnamon color locks. She handed Vicky the blue sweats Sophie had purchased for her earlier. "We'll have to see about getting more clothes for you."

Discreetly, the grifter turned her back and began cleaning up a bit, while Vicky fought and grunted her way through getting dressed. Once Vicky was decent, Sophie opened the bathroom door to find Eliot waiting patiently in the chair by the bed.

"Is he part guard dog?" Vicky muttered behind Sophie.

"Possibly," Sophie laughed softly, "But you'll never find one more loyal or brave."

"Hey, quit talking about me like I'm a Rottweiler or something," Eliot smirked, as he stood and walked towards them.

"Your bite is definitely worse than your bark though," Sophie observed with a smile.

"Your bark doesn't seem all that bad," Vicky said, meeting his gaze steadily.

"That's because I haven't barked at ya yet, sweetheart," Eliot tilted his head, a mischievous spark in his eye, "Growled a little maybe."

Vicky laughed, "I feel like I should be scratching you behind the ears."

Eliot stopped in front of her and there was something new in his eyes that she couldn't identify, but it caused her breath to catch and her heart to speed up just a bit.

"How do you know I won't bite?" Eliot teased.

Vicky shifted to take a step towards him when Sophie cleared her throat breaking the moment.

"We should get Vicky's feet wrapped up, shouldn't we?" Sophie said casually.

"Yeah," Eliot blinked, his gaze shifting from Vicky to Sophie. He cleared his throat and turned back to Vicky. "Okay, up you go."

"Well, I think you can take it from here," Sophie said, watching as Eliot lifted Vicky into his arms and carried her across the room.

"Thanks, Soph," Eliot said, setting Vicky down on the bed and reaching for the gauze and bandages.

Vicky smiled at the older woman as Eliot dug through his kit, "Yes, thank you."

Sophie smiled back and left the room.

Vicky sat quietly while Eliot applied burn cream. Her thoughts drifted as she tried to find some balance between everything that had happened, everything she had learned, and where she went from here.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?" The sound of Eliot's deep voice causing her to bring her head up.

"Excuse me?" Vicky blinked, confused.

"What your father did, you know that it's not your fault, right?" Eliot said, as he finished wrapping the bandages around her feet.

"I should have known," Vicky said, looking away, "I knew my Dad wasn't a saint. I knew that he broke the law on a daily basis but I never . . . well, I never thought he was a murderer. I was an idiot," She pulled her feet out of his lap.

"Vicky-"

"No, Eliot," Vicky cried, looked up at the hitter, "I should have known. What the hell did I think he was doing with the people who crossed him? I'm an idiot. I didn't see it because I didn't want to see."

"He was your father," Eliot said, softly, "You love him. It's only natural that you didn't want to see the worst."

Vicky stood and walked stiffly to the dresser, "It's my father's fault that that little girl is dead. Over drugs."

"She wasn't the intended target. That article said she was caught in the crossfire," Eliot's said, his voice closer now.

Vicky didn't turn around, "That doesn't change that she's dead and that my father ordered the hit. He's my _father._ How am I -," She broke off, shaking her head.

Vicky felt more than heard Eliot move closer until he stood directly behind her. She froze when he placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

"We don't choose our parents," Eliot said, "Your father made his own decisions. Those choices are on him, not you. Have you ever hurt anyone?"

"No," Vicky shook her head, "I went out of my way to stay out of it all. I love my father and my brother but I never wanted to be them."

"There you go. We all make our own choices. You can't blame yourself for theirs. That little girl's death isn't your fault," Eliot said. He turned Vicky to face him, vaguely surprised when she let him, "Look at me."

Vicky lifted her eyes until she met his. She saw compassion and understanding but no pity.

"Did your father love you?" Eliot asked gently.

"Yes," Vicky answered without hesitation.

"Then that's what you hang onto right now," Eliot said, "You'll figure out the rest."

Vicky looked up into Eliot's eyes for a long moment. He was right. She would find the answers. She didn't know how, but she would. She reached up and laid one of her hands over his. She caught her breath when Eliot lifted his hand from her shoulder and turned it so that her fingers were locked in his.

"You're not alone, Vicky," Eliot said, "The team will help you. _I'll _help you."

Vicky wanted to thank him, but couldn't speak past the tears locked in her throat. Instead, she gave him a shaky smile and squeezed his hand.


End file.
